


Live in My Memory

by RileyC



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Anger, F/M, Heartbreak, Melancholy, No one's that sweet all the time, Post-Break Up, letter-writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 16:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: Jane is in London, no hope of seeing Bingley, and needs to get a few things off her chest...





	Live in My Memory

_ Dearest Lizzy, _

_ And so, all hope is lost. You will chastise me for such melodrama, but there, I say it again: all hope is lost. Caroline was so horrid in her treatment of me, so cold and cruel in her dismissal of any small hope I still cherished for Bingley--for Charles… Surely I may speak his name here, like this. I shall never speak it elsewhere. Never speak it as his wife. And were Caroline Bingley to be run down in the street tomorrow I should not shed a tear! _

_ Oh, how I wish I had your courage, Lizzy, your spirit. If Wickam vanishes from your life you will not crumble. You will not feel this hollow ache within. _ _ You _ _ would never wish to run away, where none can ever find you and remind you all _ _ their _ _ hopes rely upon you. _

_ What will become of us, Lizzy, if I cannot find another like Charles? There is no other like him. But I will have no choice. You may spurn a thousand Mr. Collins’ and never be the worse for it. I cannot. If he be old, unhandsome, cruel and unfeeling, I still must accept the next man who offers for me. There is no choice. Papa is not young, and when he passes we are all dependent upon Mr. Collins, and there is nothing to depend upon there. A word from his Lady Catherine de Bourgh and he would cast us all out into the street. _

_ This has weighed on me for long, Lizzy. Ever since Mama informed me that all her hopes rested upon me. And how you would laugh, Lizzy, if you knew how often I have wished to have been born with a hump, or for my eyes to be crossed, for my skin to be like a crocodile’s! Anything to be spared Mama’s fussing and examining and instructions to be demure and sweet and smile smile smile until my face aches with it and I would hurl the tea things at the wall if only I were brave enough! _

_ The hump may yet occur. My shoulders feel bowed with everything that is heaped upon them. _

_ Lizzy… Lizzy, he was so perfect! So sweet and kind and gentle. Even had _ _ he__ a hump and crossed eyes, he would yet have been beautiful to behold. If I had dreamed him into being, he could not have been more perfect. I will have that, my dreams, my memories, no matter what. Not even Caroline Bingley can take those from me. _

_ But there, I’ll write no more about it. _

True to her word, Jane Bennet put down her pen and stood up from the writing desk. Pacing over to the window, she looked out at the gray and dreary London street. It suited her. What need had she of sunlight, of color and vivacity, when Charles was lost to her and so little possibility of joy lay before her?

She sighed and pressed her hand to the pane, the glass cool against her palm.

She mustn’t give into this. She had to cast off this melancholia and not take her disappointment so much to heart. Fine words and sentiments, but not so easy to attain.

This world was blessed with but one Charles Bingley, and he was never to be hers. Deep down she believed she had always known that, and had only let herself get caught up in a dream. A cold, gray day had dawned, however, and there was no more time for dreaming.

Resolved to that, and hearing her Aunt Gardiner’s step in the hall, Jane snatched up the ink-scrawled pages of a letter she’d never meant to send, and cast them into the fire. They were burning quite merrily, blackened at the edges, and curling, when her aunt came into the room.


End file.
